Three Little Piggies
by Alpha-alien
Summary: Fred is bored with his usual killings. In an attempt to get his motivation back, he summons three different children to hunt. Can these children band together and survive their dream, or are they doomed to an unhappy ending? hiatus
1. Big Bad Wolf

Yay!

New Nightmare story!

:'D

I'm almost done with my other one, so I decided to start on this one.

Don't worry, no real tie-ins with Forgotten Innocence.

But I'd still love it if you read and reviewed both that one and this story.

*along with any other stories that peek your interest*

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Three Little Piggies

[A Nightmare on Elm Street]

The Big Bad Wolf

Soft white mist gently rolled across the ground. It was all that moved, scattered about what appeared to be a dark, empty cellar. Well, almost empty. The small gaps that formed in the mist allowed the floor to be seen, and various bodies lay here, there and yonder. Young children in torn rags and teens slashed my some demonic blade. Boys and girls, all were slain. An unholy scene of terror and agony.

There was a loud snort that broke the silence. In a large chair, almost throne-worthy, sat a tall, lanky man. He was clad in a tattered red and green striped shirt, and brown fedora hat. Dirty brown pants, and black boots twitched as he tapped his foot. His was horribly scarred, his face revealing red tissues that had long since healed and now stretched over his muscles as new, horrific skin. The little actual skin he had left was deeply tanned. His worn hat was drawn back, his muddy brown eyes fixed on one of the many bodies that lay before him. One mangled hand propped his head upright as he hunched over, the brown leather glove on his right hand dangled between his legs, the blades still sharp after all this time.

This monster - nay- this _demon_ gave another snort. He was quite bored. Night after night, they slept, and night after night, he would stalk them. Sometimes, he'd just out and kill them. To be quite honest, all this had become - dare he say it?

Boring.

It had been a while since he cackled at a victim's cries. Even longer since the nights where blood had made him squirm with glee. Hell, he'd even stopped with the snappy remarks!

It seemed, to him, that everything he could do, he's done. As he sat there on his macabre throne, Fredrick Krueger found himself thinking, for the first time, of stopping all this.

He realized what he was musing about and in a quick, spur of the moment action, hurled the closest thing to him. It was a long, slender arm. Possibly female, but Fred had killed enough teens to know that not all of the guys worked on their arms.

Fred growled and threw down his hat, his bald scalp seemed to shift and flake. More dead skin. He shook his head, and pick his hat back up.

"I need more excitement." he said, finally. He sighed and rubbed his eyes with his non bladed hand. That, Fred thought, was easier said than done.

And so, the Dream Demon sat there, contemplating. He loved to kill. He lived to kill - well, it a matter of speaking, anyway. How could he bring the laughter back into his slaughter?

He sat there for so long, one might have been able to grow mold on him. Fred growled and was about to throw something else, when it came to him.

"Why not stalk three kiddies at once?" he mused, stroking his chin, thoughtfully. Mushing three separate dreams into one shouldn't be too hard. It could be the "oomph" he needed to get back into the spirit of things.

Fred grinned and tapped his claws against the arm of his chair.

"Now, who will be my little piggies?"


	2. The Fairest of Them All

Three Little Piggies

[A Nightmare on Elm Street]

The Fairest of Them All

Vanity, thy name is Tompkins. No, really. Amy Tompkins was called Vanity all through her life. She made sure, no matter where she went, she was gorgeous. And Amy was.

But Little Vanity Tompkins was rude. A junior in high school, Vanity disliked socializing with the people she called "uglies", so she had very few friends. She would push and shove to get her way. If all else would fail, she'd scream. Seventeen years of being spoiled and told she was the prettiest girl ever had taken it's toll.

Her friends voiced their opinions. Amy hated when people argued with her, so their opinions were never directed at her. Gossiping and hushed conversations followed Vanity, and Vanity loved the attention. If she ever knew what was said, she might go insane.

"Oh, my gosh! She's such a brat!"

"Oh, completely! She thinks she's so fantastically sexy."

"Ugh, I just want to rip her eyes out, just so she can see how ugly she is."

"Harsh, but she so deserves it!"

"I hate her."

Vanity would flip her hair, and laugh at a joke she'd make about someone. Her few friends were give small chuckles, just to please her, but then would shake their heads in distaste. Her parents were wealthy enough to support their daughter's extravagant lifestyle, and loved to please their only child.

Today was the last day of school - tomorrow started summer break. Months of relaxing in shade, shopping, dating and gossiping were on Vanity's to-do list. She pulled on her nightgown and crawled into bed. Tonight would be sleep, and tomorrow would be full of new adventures! She closed her eyes and settled down for sleep.

"Vanity!" her eyes popped open.

"What? Who's there?" she looked towards her window. A shape darted across it. Vanity jumped from her bed and raced towards the window, throwing it open. "Hey!" the figure motioned for her to follow, then ran across the lawn and down the street. Knowing better, but not caring, Vanity climbed out of her window and gave chase.

After what seemed like hours of getting nowhere but lost, Vanity leaned against a wall.

"Damn, their fast." she said, exhausted. "Who the Hell runs around town at night?" She looked around and shook her head.

"What a creeper." A twig snapped behind her and Vanity screamed, spinning around.

"Fucking _cat_!" the small white creature mewed and quickly darted away as Vanity attempted to give it a kick. "Shoo!" she lost her footing, and yelped as she fell into a puddle; and began to sink.

"Ah! Help!" She began flailing wildly, attempting to keep her head above the surface. Soon, she felt herself get pulled under. Vanity closed her eyes, she was dead. She knew it.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing in my room?"


	3. The NotSo Charming Prince

Three Little Piggies

[A Nightmare on Elm Street]

The Not-So Charming Prince

Gregory West smiled, leaning against the headboard on his bed. Headphones covered his ears, and the sound of loud rock music seeped into the room. Closing his eyes, he jammed away on his air guitar, singing – rather poorly – to the lyrics.

He was hip; he was handsome; he was an asshole. Major Asshole West his friends would tease and Gregory would take it in stride. He was an asshole, and he didn't give two shits _or_ a fuck. Unfortunately every lady he would try to woo with his _manly ways_ did give two shits and a fuck. They would yell at him, slap him, and punch him before walking away, leaving his friends to laugh.

"Major Asshole West crashed again!" Gregory would laugh; tell his friends that sooner or later he'd find a girl. Unfortunately Hell would freeze over twice before that happened. But that didn't phase Gregory one bit. He knew there was a girl for him. She'd have a huge rack, a firm ass and would gladly bend over backwards. Gregory smiled, playing the last cords on his air guitar.

"Gregory West! Turn that fucking music _down_!" He faintly heard his mother's voice scream. Gregory pulled off his headphone and stuck a finger in his ear, trying to clear the ringing out of it.

"Sorry, Ma." He called, annoyed at his mother's lack of musical appreciation. That was another thing he wanted his gal to have: an appreciation of music. His music, anyway. He could care less what she would like.

He turned, putting his headphones on the table next to his iPod and laid down. Gregory looked at the ceiling, bored. Summer – it meant he'd be stuck at home doing chores. His mother loved to make him suffer. Up at six, in bed by nine. Eat your veggies, wash behind your ears and clean up your damn dog's shit. Gregory sometimes hated his mother, but knew she meant well. Deep down under that ton of wrinkles.

Closing his eyes, Gregory yawned. He glanced over at his poster of Jenna Jameson. He smiled, and fell asleep.

He was awoken to the sound of screaming. Gregory sat up and looked around. Nothing. He climbed out of bed and opened the door of his room.

"Mom?" he called out. Silence. "Mom, if you've got the mail man in bed, just tell me so I don't open the door to you two licking whipped cream off each other." He said, disgusted at the image. His mother was dating the mailman – she had been since her father died. He just wished they'd put up a sign to warn him about it. Gregory rolled his eyes and closed the door.

He turned on the room's overhead light and sat down on his bed, putting on his headphones. He flipped through his music library and began to play another loud song. He leaned back and closed his eyes.

_Something's not right_. He looked at the iPod on the desk, and stared at the track playing. It was what he selected, but it was much too quiet. He checked the volume, and saw it was up all the way. "The fuck?" He took off his headphones and examined them. "These pieces of shit are broken! Great!" He groaned and tossed the headphones to the ground. He scooted around before laying down on his bed. He looked over at Jenna, who was giving him a _very_ alluring gaze. Gregory smiled.

"Hello, Jenna." He winked – and nearly fell off the bed when Jenna winked back. "Oh, _shit_!" He scrambled to sit up and walked over to the poster. He touched it – and it felt like a poster. He looked at it, but nothing happened. Gregory rubbed his eyes and walked back to bed.

"Jesus, I must be tired." He muttered, laying down. He rolled onto his side, his back facing the wall, and closed his eyes.

"Help!" Gregory turned, and stared at a girl. She was laying down, her eyes squeezed closed. Her dark hair was splayed out and her nightgown was hiked up, revealing a pair of lace underwear. Gregory found himself staring lustfully at her, before reality clicked in.

"What the _fuck_ are you doing in my room?"

Vanity opened her eyes and turned her head towards the voice. A boy – a handsome man – was looking at her. She sat up, and looked at him. "Your room?" she looked around and screamed. Gregory hurried over and placed a hand over her mouth.

"Are you fucking psycho? If my mom catches you in here she'll think we're fucking!" Vanity's eyes looked down, and she realized her underwear was showing. She quickly flicked her skirt over the lace and pulled back from Gregory.

"_Pervert_!" She hissed, backing away. Gregory glared.

"You're the one flashing me!" He whispered. "More importantly, how the hell did you get in my room!" Vanity looked around, nose wrinkled.

"This is _your_ room?" her eyes fell on the Jenna poster and she made a gagging sound. "It's horrible." Gregory sighed.

"Answer me, you dumb bitch." Vanity stiffened.

"My name is Amy, you uncultured pig!" she snapped, "And I don't know! I fell into a puddle and wound up here." Gregory blinked.

"Amy? Amy Tompkins? As in _Vanity_ Tompkins?" Vanity nodded.

"The one and only, why are you giving me that look?" Gregory shook his head.

"Un-_fucking _-believable." He breathed. "Are you high?" Vanity glared, her face turning red.

"No, I'm not high, dammit! Someone was calling me, so I followed them. I couldn't find them and then I got scared by a cat. I went to kick the cat and I fell into a puddle and the puddle turned into a really deep water-filled hole and I wind up here and – Jesus Christ maybe I _am_ high." Vanity blushed, looking down. Gregory sighed.

"Maybe I should call the Funny Farm and have them drag your crazy ass away." Vanity opened her mouth to retort, but a loud bang was heard in the hall. Vanity jumped, and Gregory stood. "Hide," he hissed, walking over to the door. Vanity quickly raced towards the closet, flung it open and hid inside.

"Mom?" He opened the door of his room and looked outside. Nothing. He frowned, and turned towards his closet.

"Oy, Miss Vain, you heard that, right?" Vanity looked out the door and nodded.

"Sounded like something fell, something heavy." Gregory looked back out the door and froze.

"Son-of-a-bitch," he whispered. Vanity walked out of the closet and looked out the door.

"Your house is ten degrees of fucked up," she whispered. The house was now overgrown with moss and vines. Gregory shook his head.

"What the hell?" He stepped out, Vanity following. "This ain't my house! What the fuck is going on?" He looked and glared at Vanity. "What the fuck did you do?"  
"I waved my magic wand and said Hocus Pocus and Bibbity Bobbity Boo – what the fuck do you think?" Vanity screamed. "I didn't do shit! I told you what happened." She crossed her arm and glared. Gregory growled with anger.

"I'm going back into my room, and you can get the fuck out of my face!" Gregory turned and froze.

"Where the fuck is my room?" he screamed. Vanity looked over and her eyes widened. The door – the door they _just_ walked out of – was gone. The two were now in a run down old house. Vanity frowned, hugging herself.

"Contact high?" Gregory fought to keep himself from punching her. He stormed off, determined to find a way out. Vanity followed. "Hey, wait!"

"Why the hell should I?" Gregory looked over as Vanity caught up and hooked her arm around his. Her eyes were wide, and full of fear.

"The prince is supposed to protect the princess!" She said, and Gregory pulled his arm away.

"I'm not a prince! Even if I was, I wouldn't be _you_ mother-fucking prince!" Vanity glared.

"You're an asshole!" Gregory smiled.

"That's Major Asshole West." He said and Vanity blinked. She pouted and followed him.

"You're not supposed to agree with someone when they call you an asshole." Vanity pointed out. Gregory shrugged.

"Why? To give them the satisfaction of me arguing with them?" Gregory looked over at Vanity who seemed taken aback. "You look like a bitch who loves to pick on people." Vanity huffed, but remained silent. Gregory laughed as the two walked down a set of steps.

At the base of the steps was a large metal door. Vanity, out of instinct, clung to Gregory's arm. Gregory glared at the girl out of the corner of his eye before reaching out and opening the door. On the other side was a room. Gregory and Vanity carefully stepped into the room and Vanity clung tighter.

"Um, excuse me," a small voice spoke from behind them, "but, um, what were you doing in my bathroom?"


	4. Little Blind Mouse

I'm on a bit of a roll, tonight!

A little over half my stories have been updated and I'm feeling good.

Kiss those creative juices, they're flowing like crazy!

Reviews keep the flow strong!

;D

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Three Little Piggies

[A Nightmare on Elm Street]

Little Blind Mouse

Melissa Cruise was a quiet girl. She loved to read, and always seemed to have a different book every week. Trouble is, when people looked over her shoulder, all they saw was braille. Melissa was born blind, but regardless, she was a very smart young lady. Making nothing but A's and B's, she found a small niche of the social circle she considered her friends. There's nothing too remarkable about Melissa, her parents loved her greatly, and made sure she was comfortable.

She was neither rich nor poor, and there was nothing in her life she would change, not even her blindness. She loved imagining what others looked like, even what she herself looked like. Her mother and father told her that she had beautiful blonde hair and smoky blue eyes, but when she thought of herself, she saw pretty black hair and green eyes. It was a small blessing she had, imagining herself how she wanted, and as far as she was concerned, that's how she did looked (but she'd never admit it openly). In her dreams, she could see all kinds of wonder. Her pages had words, and she could read them with ease. She could see all the different types of birds, see the cute patterns on cupcakes and see the heat distort far-off objects down a long stretch of highway.

Melissa enjoyed dreaming above reading only _slightly_. In books, images were contained, but in her dreams, she could see whatever she wanted. Take now, for instance; Melissa was sitting in a grassy meadow looking at the fantastic colors of the flowers. Green, blue, red, yellow, pink, lilac, white and orange. She giggled as caterpillars tickled her bare feet. She stretched her arms high and looked up at the deep purple sky and smiled warmly as a flamboyantly colored bird flew overhead, it's long tail twitching a wave down to her. She twirled a strand of black hair around her fingers and stood. Racing behind a tree, she found herself in her room. Her hair was back to blonde, and her eyes blue, but she was fine with all that.

Sitting down, she picked up her black sunglasses fondly and looked over them. She put them on her head and looked in the mirror. "Dawlin', you're going to be famous one day! You're name will be in lights and _everyone_ will know your name!" She spoke to her reflection, blowing kisses and giggling at her childishness. "Men will want to be with you! Women will want to be you! Children will love and adore you-"she broke and laughed. On her bed lay To Kill a Mockingbird. Walking towards it she picked up the book and gently turned the pages, marveling at the letters.

A knob turned. Melissa looked up, shocked. Out stepped a boy and a girl. The boy had short dirty blonde hair and bright teal eyes. Melissa frowned and closed the book.

"Um, excuse me," the two looked over at her, looking equally confused, "but, um, what were you doing in my bathroom?"

"Bathroom?" The girl looked behind her and shrieked.

Where Vanity and Gregory had entered was no longer an overgrown house, but a neat bathroom. Vanity and Gregory exchanged glances.

"So, this is your house?" Gregory finally spoke.

"No, this is my parent's house. You're in my room," Melissa stood from her bed, dropping the book. "How'd you get in my bathroom, anyway?"

"It wasn't a bathroom we left!" Vanity snapped, placing her hands on her hips. "We were in some weird house that had vines and shit, and when we went through a door we wound up here!" Melissa looked thoughtful for a moment.

"Interesting. I've never had anyone come into my room via my bathroom in dreams before,"

"Dreams?" Vanity cut it, "This is all a dream? It totally makes sense, now!"

"Son-of-a-bitch. And here I was worrying over nothing." Gregory laughed. "I guess we should wake up now," Vanity nodded and swiftly pressed her lips against Gregory's. Melissa felt herself blush and looked away. The kiss lasted a good minute-and-a-half before Vanity pulled back. Gregory looked a bit dazed, but choked out "The hell was that for?"

"To help me wake up," Vanity said, moving her fingers along the sides of her lips, pulling off saliva. "I decided to wake up by giving myself a huge shock." She stood still, before it hit her. "_What the fuck? Why am I still asleep?_" Melissa shook her head, while Gregory seemed to still be picking his jaw up from the floor.

"That was rather rude," Melissa commented, and Vanity stuck her nose in the air.

"Who asked you?" she asked. Gregory finally came to his senses.

"Kiss me again, and I'll deck you!"

"It's not polite to hit a girl!"  
"Good thing I'm not hitting the blonde."

"_Hey_!" Vanity and Gregory continued to argue, and Melissa groaned.

"You two are giving me a headache. Regardless of how you came here, kindly leave my dreams in peace." Picking up her fallen book, Melissa gave a curt nod and left her room, roaming back into the meadows. She stopped not three feet away from her entrance. The lovely meadows which she enjoyed had become a monotone of grays, whites and blacks. The colorful bird with the long tail sat silently in a tree, beady black eyes stared coldly down at her. Melissa ran a hand through blonde hair in dismay. "What on earth happened here?" She closed her eyes and took several deep breaths. Opening them, everything was still the same. She felt like screaming; this was not her dreamy paradise. This was hell. Pure and simple H-E-double hockey sticks "Hell". Her mouth fell open but all that she could croak out was a small squeak.

Vanity and Gregory had walked behind her, hoping to figure out how she knew this was all a dream, before looking at the color-drained landscape. "This is your dream?" Vanity asked, frowning. "I thought it'd be more _colorful_." Gregory crossed his arms, and went to lean against the door that had closed behind them. He fell flat on his back. Melissa and Vanity looked over and Melissa found her voice.

"The door. My room, what happened?" She stepped forward, unsure if her dreams were backfiring. "Maybe I need to try harder." She closed her eyes and began to chant over and over "there's a door to my room here, there's a door to my room here, there's a door …. "

Opening her eyes, Melissa saw a door. It was the door she was used to. This door was black. Paint chipped along the edges and four long scratches decorated its front. Silver numbers hung unevenly along the wood. 1428. Gregory finally sat up and stared at the door along with the two girls.

"Do we go through it or," Vanity asked, fear tainting her words. Melissa shook her head.

"I, I don't know. I've never seen this door before." Gregory took a few steps back.

"I ain't going through it." He said, sternly. Vanity and Melissa looked at him.

"Why not?" Vanity asked.

"Amazing. So popular, and so stupid." Gregory glared at the pretty girl, who crossed her arms. Melissa bit her lip, turning her gaze back to the door. Gregory began to speak again.

"It's an old legend. Not many folks around here talk about it. They keep their kids in the dark, but there were a lot of killings a few years back. Kids dying in their sleep, a cop and some psychiatrists also died. They couldn't keep all these coincidental deaths under wraps, so they flat out ignored it. It's been quiet for a while, but," Gregory paused. Vanity looked frightened. "I think he's back."

"Who's back?" Vanity asked, terrified.

"Freddy." Melissa whispered, causing both Vanity and Gregory to jump. They had forgotten she was there, completely. Melissa was still staring at the door, a mixture of awe and terror stretched across her face. "Fred Krueger." She looked at the two behind her. "When I was little, I caught my older sister singing a song. My mother scolded her for it. They say she ran away a few days later, but I think Freddy got her." She looked down. "It was so long ago, I had forgotten." She closed her eyes.

"One, two, Freddy's coming for you," Gregory's eyes widened, and he raced over, covering the blonde's mouth.

"_Don't sing it here you idiot! He'll catch us!_" Melissa's eyes widened.

"I've already caught you, little piggies."


End file.
